


The times Grace said 'That's Enough' (and when she said 'Keep Going')

by TheSlytherinWitch



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon Death, Child Abuse, Gen, Grace is an amazing mother, Grace protects her kids, I don't like Luther but he was abused too, I don’t know exactly what they did in their training with Reginald so I made stuff up, I'm not sure how their powers really work either so possible power exaggeration I guess, No Incest, Pre-Canon, Protective Grace Hargreeves, Reginald Hargreeves can rot in hell, Reginald Hargreeves' A+ Parenting, Spoilers, The Umbrella Academy as children, They all left, They all suffered in their training, Until they leave her, so much angst yikes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-20
Updated: 2019-03-20
Packaged: 2019-11-21 19:17:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18146333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSlytherinWitch/pseuds/TheSlytherinWitch
Summary: Grace was made to intervene when things got too bad. And they did get bad.Or, some of the times Sir Reginald Hargreeves went too far and Grace stepped in to protect the kids, and all the times they left her.





	The times Grace said 'That's Enough' (and when she said 'Keep Going')

Grace knows that she was first made to help Vanya when she used her powers, but she became much more than that. She became a mother and a caretaker. A watcher and minder of children who could so easily be hurt.

But she was also something else.

She was Sir Reginald Hargreeves’ only form of intervention. Grace was designed to intervene if someone’s life was in danger and sometimes- he could never tell when he had taken things too far- that was because of Sir Reginald.

That vital piece of her programing was in all ways intentional. Her creator knew he crossed lines and he needed some way to be sure all the children survived. So Grace was a sort of safety switch, an off button for when the abuse went a bit past bearable. She was the only one with the safe words.

The only one who could protect them.

Grace loved the children more than her programming had ever told her to. She tried her best.

  
-  


Number One was strong. It was his power. But he did have limits.

The sunshine was bright in the nearly cloudless sky as Grace, Sir Reginald, and Pogo stood in the courtyard, watching Luther. The day was nice, warm and breezy. Leaves rattled on the ground and Grace could almost feel the wind on her synthetic skin and through her plastic hair.

She tried to focus less on wondering what it would feel like on real skin and more on Luther, whose arms were beginning to shake.

He had been holding a rock, though it was more like a boulder, over his head for the past four hours and it was clearly growing difficult. Grace was certain that no one else would have even been able to pick it up, let alone hold it for hours on end and she felt very proud of her son.

Sir Reginald Hargreeves, however, did not seem pleased at all.

Indeed, over the next half hour that followed he grew more and more frustrated as Luther’s strain continued to increase. Luther was trying his best, but Grace could see the way he bit his lip, and the sheen of sweat that had formed on his forehead. He tried to hide it, to mask his deep breaths and the quivering of his arms. He tried to be the perfect son.

But she could always tell when her children were hurting.

“Please, dad, can I put it down now?” asked Luther, short of breath. “This is longer than I’ve ever gone before, I don’t think I can hold it much more.”

Sir Reginald shook his head. “Nonsense, Number One, you can go much longer than this!”

Luther said nothing but it wasn’t long after that he began to speak again, more urgently this time. “Dad, please!” There was fear in his eyes now. “I’m going to drop it! It’s going to land on top of me.” The man did not look up from his notebook. Grace could see the desperation on her son’s face mounting. “Dad!”

Her gears were spinning.

Luther’s arms shuttered and he shook under the boulders weight. If it fell he would be badly hurt. Sir Reginald did not notice. Grace knew it was almost too late and he wasn’t going to stop this.

“That’s enough,” she said briskly, smiling broadly as she turned her face to the man beside her. “It’s lunchtime. Let’s all go inside and I’ll make everyone something to eat.” Luther’s eyes shone with desperate hope. Sir Reginald met her gaze narrowly, but nodded once.

The rock dropped to the side with a heavy crunch and Luther sank to his knees, panting and turning his head away so they would not see his ashamed face.

Sir Reginald Hargreeves made a note in his book, muttered unhappily, and strutted away towards the house, Pogo following behind.

“I’ll make everyone some lunch,” Grace said again to the empty air in their wake before helping Luther up. He pulled his hand away as soon has he was standing and looked up at her angrily.

“Why did you stop him?” he demanded. “I could have gone longer! Now he thinks I’m weak!”

Grace processed this then smiled. “Of course he doesn’t think that, silly! You’re not weak at all and your father knows that very well.” Luther scowled, but let her lead him towards the kitchen.

He did not thank her and he wiped madly at his eyes when he thought no one at the table was looking, but he was safe and that was all that mattered to Grace. The children and their safety was all that she was programmed to care about.

Later she found a note on her chair next to her charging station. It was on a lined piece of paper, folded in fourths with the word  _ Mom _ scribbled on the top. Inside it only said  _ thank you _ , but Grace knew who it was from. 

She placed it carefully in the cardboard box where she kept the things her children made her. She wasn’t built to be sentimental, but she loved to look at the things they brought her. It just showed how much they loved her. 

The box was filled with messily crafted notes and cards (those were from all the children, mostly given on different holidays), pressed yellow flowers from the courtyard (mainly from Diego and Vanya), a collection of screws, nails, and other trinkets (courtesy of Five, who loved to collect them and see how they worked together), a handwritten book about a puppy (from Ben), and many other items she’d chosen to keep.

She had the memories, one perk of being a robot was that there was nothing she could forget, but it was nice to see these things. To have a tangible reminder that she existed and what she existed for.

  
-  


Number Two’s exercises were always dangerous. Grace thought that he should have been practicing with something safer- balls, or knives with sheaths at least- but Sir Reginald disagreed.

So Diego used sharp weapons and threw himself into the increasingly dangerous exercises. Grace wanted him to be more careful, but he was always trying to surpass Luther and desperate to prove he was worth more than Sir Reginald’s hatred of his stutter.

And because he wished to prove himself so badly, his exercises held a lot of potential danger.

The long room where Diego’s training took place was brightly lit and held a large number of targets ranging from dart boards to cardboard cutouts that looked like people.

When Diego was young he had grown good at hitting a target, but he had not yet been forced to hit an actual person. Once, recently, Sir Reginald had wanted to try the boy’s aim at a moving target and had him hit birds in the courtyard.

He missed the first few times but eventually one hit its mark. When he saw the body on the ground, blood pooling around the wound he had caused, Diego had broken down and refused to continue with the session.

Later Grace and Diego had buried the bird together under a tree and she had listened to his silence as he avoided speaking for the next two days.

Still, what Sir Reginald did next made a child killing a bird seem easy. He asked Grace to stand in front of the far wall in the training room and told Diego to throw at her.

“Wh-what?” Diego asked, clearly horrified. Reginald’s face soured at the stumble and he strictly told the boy to aim just shy of Grace’s right arm and into the wall. He said Diego needed to be less sentimental. That he had to overcome his weaknesses and not cry whenever he hurt something or someone.

Grace wasn’t worried, she could not feel pain and if anything happened she could always be fixed. Still, she did not like the look on Diego’s face as he stared across the room at her. She didn’t think he would have done it if he’d had to hit her directly, but he only had to hit near her this time.

The knife landed about an inch away from her arm and Sir Reginald nodded approvingly. “Very good. Now her left foot.”

Diego hesitated, but eventually he raised his arm. His hand shook as he readied the blade.

“I’m sorry, mom,” he said shakily.

Grace smiled. “That’s alright, Diego,” she said soothingly. “You know it can’t hurt me, silly.” And it didn’t, but not because she did not feel pain. The knife sank into her red, high heeled shoe and slid right between her toes.

It did not touch her at all.

Even if it had actually hit her, though, she wouldn’t have felt a thing.

Grace reached down and carefully withdrew the blade, setting it gently on the ground beside her. She also pulled the knife out of the wall and laid it beside the first. Reginald waited until she had finished to give the next order.

“The left hand.”

Diego looked at his father, opened and closed his mouth, then turned away dejectedly. He clearly wanted to say something, but stuttering now would only make this session worse. Sir Reginald Hargreeves would undoubtedly do something awful.

Grace wanted to tell Diego to picture the words in his mind, but she knew Reginald hated it when she helped her child with that. He thought the stutter was something Diego had to get over himself. A weakness that was perfectly in the child’s control.

Grace knew it wasn’t, but there was nothing she could do.

The boy looked scared, but there was a sharp barb of determination too. The knife sank into the wood of the wall between Grace’s fingers and thumb, not touching her skin.

Sir Reginald frowned. Clearly Diego could hit where he had directed, he was simply choosing not to do it. “Not good enough, Number Two. You must overcome this fear!”

“I’m not afraid!” Diego shouted. “I just-just don’t want to hu-hurt mom!”

“Stop being foolish! She is a robot, Number Two, she cannot feel pain. And speak plainly, for once. Stop this useless stammering! I tire of hearing it.”

Diego looked like he’d been slapped. He took a step back, away from Reginald and Grace realized that she was angry. Angry for her son. She wanted to protect him from this. But she could not step in yet. Sir Reginald would know that she was doing it out of kindness, not out of necessity.

“The heart this time, Number Two.”

“No!” Diego shouted. “I can-can’t hurt m-mom!” His fear was at the surface now, forcing him to trip over his words. Grace’s hand twitched, she wanted to go to him, to comfort him and tell him it was okay, but she stayed where she was at the wall.

She offered him a smile. “It’s alright, Diego.”

“It’s no-not o-o-okay,” the boy managed, stumbling over his words and his feet as he moved backwards. “I ca-can’t! I won’t hurt her!” Reginald took a step forward and Diego made a break for the door. Before he made it there Sir Reginald caught hold of his arm and held him back as Diego struggled to get away, sobbing now and clearly terrified.

“Number Two!” the man exclaimed. “Stop this at once! I will not tolerate such unruly behavior. You are being ridiculous.”

“No! No, let go of me!” Diego shouted, yanking on his arm. Now, Sir Reginald was not physically harming Diego, his hold on his arm was only meant to stop him from running, not to cause him pain, but the fear was real. The sobs were real. The  _ panic _ was real.

“Hit her heart, Number Two or you will never get past this! You are showing weakness!”

Grace could see the hurt in her son’s eyes. She could see him straining to get away, to be anywhere but here, to do anything but hurt her. She knew that out of all the children Diego loved her the most. He had never seen her as a robot, only as a mother, and she cared for him deeply. As she did all of the siblings.

She would not stand by as he went through this. “That’s enough,” she said, moving away from the wall and towards the man and the child. Sir Reginald looked unhappy, but he released his grip on the boy’s arm. Diego collapsed on the floor and Reginald swept out of the room without a backwards glance.

When he was gone Grace knelt beside her son as he cried into his knees. When he realized she was there Diego looked up and flung himself into her arms, whispering broken apologies into her shoulder. “I’m- I’m so sor-sorry, mom,” he wailed.

“It’s alright, Diego,” she told him as his tears soaked into her dress. “It’s alright.” When his tears finally subsided she got up and walked with him to the kitchen where he sat and sniffled into a tissue as he watched her make pancakes with blueberries in the shape of smiley faces. 

They waited together in silence for them to cook and when they were finished she set the plate down in front of him. Before he started to eat he wrapped his arms around her waist. “I love you, mom,” he mumbled into her skirt.

He had never hesitated or not wanted to tell her that like the other children, who considered her too robot to care or be worth their affections.

Diego was always trying to care for her and protect her.  _ Don’t be silly _ , she wanted to tell him.  _ I’m the one protecting  _ you. 

  
-  


Number Three’s powers required a certain… human element. Her powers had no effect on Grace, little or confusing effects on Pogo, and Sir Reginald forbade her from using her gifts on him or her siblings, so outsiders needed to be brought in.

It wasn’t as difficult as one might think. The scientist had made many a nurse disappear in the years before he had made Grace, and getting a test subject for Allison was no different.

This time it was a mailman. He stood in the courtyard, vague confusion on his face but he did not speak. The first thing Reginald always did was have Allison tell the victim: “I heard a rumor you did not talk or want to leave.”

In the past the exercises were innocent. Make the person dance, run in circles, or do a handstand. But lately they had been more dangerous. Sir Reginald Hargreeves wanted to test just how far Allison’s powers stretched. To see just how much a person could be persuaded to do.

“I heard a rumor you…” Allison looked back at Sir Reginald, her hesitation clear.

“Go on, Number Three,” the man prompted.

The mailman looked blankly ahead. Grace recognized him. He’d been delivering their mail since before she’d been created. Not that Sir Reginald knew that- Grace was always the one who collected the letters and packages from their front step.

Sometimes, around the holidays or just if she felt like it that day, Grace would make cookies and give them to him when he stopped by. He’d been nice. He’d told her about his family. He had a daughter who was five and a wife who loved flowers. He had a mother who was sick.

“I heard a rumor you stepped on that nail.” The air shimmered as the man processed this. The nail lay on its head on the ground beside him, set there by Pogo when they began this exercise.

For a long moment it looked as though the man would not do it. Allison looked up into his face, there was a flicker of something there. Recognition, fear, acceptance. Then his foot rose up.

Allison averted her eyes.

There was a slick sound and the man bellowed in pain, doubling over and clutching at his leg. “Keep him quiet, Three.”

Allison nodded quickly. Too quickly. The noises were clearly hard for her to hear. It made Grace want to put her hands over the girl’s ears. “I heard a rumor you were silent.” The shouts stopped abruptly, replaced with the sound of wind and cars passing on the street.

“Very good, Number Three,” Sir Reginald said. “Now I want you to try something else. I would like you to say: ‘I heard a rumor you cut your finger off.’”

The girl didn’t move. “What?” she asked quietly. “No. I can’t do that. I can’t hurt an innocent person!”

“How do you know he is an innocent person, Number Three? Simply because he looks normal means nothing. Everyone has done something. Now do as I instructed.” He held out a gleaming knife.

Allison stepped back, shaking her head hard. “You can’t make me,” she exclaimed stubbornly. Grace frowned. Telling Reginald something like that was not a good idea.

“Number Three! You know how important testing your power is. If you do not develop control over your abilities, you could be caught in the middle of a fight and have the person not do as you asked. Who knows how much destruction that may cause? It could mean the end for you or your siblings!” shouted Sir Reginald.

Allison drew away from him. “You know my powers work! You don’t need to do this! He doesn’t deserve this. Don’t make this about my brothers- you just want me to torture someone for no reason!”

The man shook his head. “That is enough. Do it now, Three, before I lose my patience.” He placed the knife into the mailman’s hand. Grace saw the anger on her child’s face, the frustration, and, hidden beneath it all- the fear.

“And what are you going to do? You can’t make me,” the girl said defiantly. She drew herself up. “Cause I heard a rumor you-”

Grace stepped in front of her quickly. “That’s enough,” she said with a smile. “I think we’ve done enough for today, don’t you think?” Allison closed her mouth and glared over the robot’s shoulder at Sir Reginald.

“Very well,” Reginald said. “Run along, Number Three. We shall continue your lessons tomorrow.”

Grace turned to Sir Reginald, who looked displeased. “I’ll go check on her,” she said, skirt twirling around her as she made her way into the house. 

Allison was up in her room when Grace found her. The door was closed and the robot could hear crying through the door. She knocked gently. 

“I heard a rumor you went away!” called the girl.

Grace sighed and gently opened the door. Allison was sitting on the bed, facing the wall. “You know that doesn’t work on me, silly,” she murmured softly, sitting on the end of the bed and placing her hand on the girl’s shoulder. 

Allison shook her off and Grace withdrew her hand, not wanting to push the girl any further. “He’s going to make me do it again, isn’t he?” she snarled. “I hate him!”

Grace opened her mouth, then took a moment to process this. “Your father is a good man,” she said slowly. “He wants you to be safe.”

“He wants me to hurt people!” Her hands clenched into fists on the sheets. “How can I do that?”

Grace reached out and placed her hand over Allison’s. The girl stiffened, but didn’t pull away. “You can do anything, sweetie. You’re a strong and capable young girl! Now, how about we go get some food?”

“But,” Allison muttered. Then she stopped and shook her head. “I can’t. My face is all teary.” She wiped at her eyes. 

“Well we can fix that, can’t we,” said Grace breezily. She got up and took the small, childrens makeup kit from where it sat on the desk. Allison faced her tentatively, then grinned as Grace tickled the brush over her face and on her nose before applying a few strokes of makeup.

When they were finished Allison looked down at her lap and bit her lip. “Thank you, mom.”

“Don’t thank me, silly,” Grace told her. “Now let’s go get something to eat, alright?”

“Alright.” The girl got up and ran to the door, taking off down the hallway to find her siblings.

Grace closed the makeup and put it gently back in its place on the desk. Allison pretended to hate affection but Grace knew she was grateful. And she was glad she could help her daughter.

She would do anything for any of them. 

  
-  


Number Four hated his training more than any of the others because his power was terrifying to him. Grace couldn’t blame him, she imagined fear to be a horrible thing and was almost grateful she would never be able to experience it. 

Still, because of this fear he had less of control over his gifts than any of his siblings. Well, except for Vanya. But unlike Vanya, Klaus’s powers were largely untestable. That was both because of his fear and because the ghosts he could see were invisible to everyone else.

Aside from having the boy ask and relay information from the dead and call them to him, there was little Sir Reginald could have Klaus do in his sessions. So the man focused on what he could do- help Klaus conquer his fear of the dark and the ghosts.

Grace understood the reasoning behind it and she supported it. Facing fears was a good way to get over them! And if he overcame his fear of the dead he would be so much happier! But she had to admit that closing the boy in a mausoleum in the middle of the night might not have been the best way to go about it.

The night air was frigid, and she had to fight the urge in her programming that told her to check if Klaus had a warm blanket. She could not enter the crypt. Not until the time was up.

High above the graveyard stars gleamed and the moon hung suspended like it was balanced on a tightrope. Grace, who rarely went outside in the day and never at night, found herself staring up in wonder.

It was beautiful.

She wanted to show the children, wanted to teach them about the universe. There was a wealth of information in her databanks about constellations and planets that she had never known about. She wanted to share it, but she also knew that her kids needed sleep and that this was an unattainable idea.

The quiet peace of the night was broken by screams.

Klaus was pounding at the closed door of the mausoleum, begging to be let out. It didn’t matter that the door was unlocked. Opening it was quitting and there was nothing Sir Reginald hated more than one of the children quitting before he told them they could.

In a way he always gave them an out, whether he wanted to or not. The door was always open for the children.

Luther could drop the stone at any time. Allison could charm Sir Reginald, or walk away. Diego could throw his knife at the scientist or not at all. Klaus could leave the krypt, ignore the ghosts. Five could stay in the present, in one place. Ben could leave his tentacles in another reality and stay the way he was. Vanya could choose to not use her powers at all.

They technically always had a way to quit of their own accords.

But if they did they would only make their situation worse. The training would get harder. Reginald would get harsher.

So it didn’t matter that the door to the mausoleum was unlocked. Klaus was just as much a prisoner now as he would have been if it had been padlocked. And the way the door stayed shut proved that he knew it too. It didn’t matter how scared he was- he would be so much worse off if he left. Still, it must have been taking absolutely everything in him not to pull the door open.

Just because the door didn’t open, though, didn’t mean Klaus didn’t bang on it.

He was using his fists, by the sound of it. Grace was going to have to bandage his hands later. He was hammering with an animalistic desperation that Grace found concerning. The boy’s voice was high and scared and panicked and it was making the part of her designed to intervene begin to activate.

“Let me out! Please, let me out, they’re everywhere! Please! Dad, please!” he screamed.

Sir Reginald Hargreeves looked at his watch and shook his head. “Give it a few more hours, Number Four. You must overcome this fear if you wish to conquer your ability!” he said authoritatively.

Then he turned on his heel and began to walk away through the rows of headstones.

Pogo, who had been standing nearby, tilted his head in confusion. “Won’t you wait here outside, sir? How else will we monitor his progress?” Klaus had ceased yelling and was now sobbing, the sound carrying out through the thin, high windows.

“I have my cameras and we will see for ourselves when his time is up. I have other matters to attend to, Pogo. Follow me, Grace.”

Grace was about to do as he said when she noticed that the night had grown nearly silent once more. She turned back towards the mausoleum. Nothing. She took a step closer. Faintly, it was hard to make out over the high whine of cicadas and the loud chirps of crickets, she could make out pained gasping.

All at once the switch in her mind was flipped.

“That’s enough,” she said, quickly, more urgently than she remembered doing in the past. Time was running out. She was already switching into nurse mode.

Reginald, who seemed bemused with her sudden decision to have him stop the exercise moved back to the doors. “What’s wrong? Number Four is perfectly safe in-” He stopped as he too heard the panting. His eyebrows furrowed together and, without wasting a second, he yanked the doors open. “Number Four, what is the meaning of this?”

The robot, the monkey, and the man paused for the barest instant as they took in the sight before them, lit palely by moonlight. Grace stopped as her programming worked to tell her what to do, Pogo simply seemed shocked, and Sir Reginald Hargreeves looked… disgusted.

Klaus was lying on the floor in front of the door, grasping at his chest, desperately trying to breathe.

Grace knelt down before her son and helped him sit up as he clutched at her arm. Grace assessed him the best she could. He wasn’t choking, he was having a panic attack. It wasn’t the first time, but this was by far the worst one. The robot could pick up his heartbeat- she had programming that allowed for her to check the children’s vitals- and it was beating at an alarming rate- 102 beats per minute and not slowing.

Pogo moved into the doorway and handed her a flashlight, his concern clear. Grace handed it to the boy. He grasped it in shaking hands and flicked it on, holding it like a beacon. Like it was a lifeline.

And maybe it was. To Klaus, light was the thing keeping the darkness at bay and keeping his head in this world and away from the realm of the dead.

Slowly he began to regain his breath. Grace whispered to him soothingly, running her hand up and down his back. Tears came down in harsh lines over the boy’s cheeks as he held the flashlight to his chest and stared down into it like it could blind the ghosts from his mind forever.

Grace wished it could.

When he recovered enough to breathe fully and had the stability to realize he had snot dripping down his lips and reach up to wipe it away, Grace got to her feet and lifted the boy into her arms.

“He did not complete his exercize,” Reginald objected. “Number Four still has three hours to go.”

Pogo shook his head. “He should rest now.”

The man hesitated, then nodded curtly. “Very well. Deliver him to his room, Grace, then report to your charging station as soon as we return.”

Grace smiled at him. “Of course,” she said. Then she carried the boy to the car and cradled him in her arms the whole ride back. Normally the boy might have objected to this, but Klaus was so wrecked from the terror of the whole ordeal that he stayed still, eyes glossed over, breathing shallowly.

When they arrived back at the mansion, Grace brought Klaus to his room and laid him in his bed. She fetched a glass of water for him to drink and she gently tucked the blankets up around him. His body was still shuddering and his eyes remained glazed with exhaustion and fear, so Grace leaned down and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

She could fix many physical injuries, but she could do nothing for Klaus’s mind.

When she went to close the door she heard her son’s quiet voice. “Please don’t turn the light off, mom.”

“Of course I won’t, sweetie,” she replied, running her fingers over the switch, making sure it was firmly up. “Now try to get some sleep. You need your rest.” She was about to leave when Klaus spoke again, more nervously this time.

“Can you…” he paused then began again as Grace waited patiently. “Can you stay? Just until I fall asleep?”

Grace smiled as she processed this request. “Of course,” she said, going to the bed and sitting on the edge. Klaus breathed a sigh of relief and finally closed his eyes, wrapping his arms around his shivering body under the sheets.

The robot reached down to the folded comforter at the end of the bed and brought it up to cover him.

She stayed until he finally drifted off, then she left. She needed to charge if she wanted to be there for her children tomorrow.

  
-  


Number Five’s trainings always seemed to be the most frustrating to Sir Reginald Hargreeves. They seemed fairly simple to Grace, though, who was always witness to them.

Reginald mainly wanted Five to perfect his technique. He could project to anywhere but he wanted the jumps to be precise. He wanted them to be perfect. And he also wanted to see what the boy could bring with him.

“On top of the fridge.”

_ Pop! _ Five was sitting on the fridge, dangling his legs down towards the floor.

“Over next to the sink.”

_ Pop! _ The boy was leaning against the counter.

“Bring the knife to the corner of the room,” Sir Reginald continued, eyeing the child carefully as he grabbed the blade from where it had been laying on the cutting board from when Grace had cut cheese for some crackers the kids had been eating as a snack.

_ Pop! _ There he was with the weapon.

“Very good, Number Five.”

Five rolled his eyes. “You already know that I can do all this!” he complained. “It’s too easy! You’ve had me going around the kitchen for weeks now.”

“You must be prepared to work in versatile environments, Number Five!” the man explained. “You must also have your jumps perfect.”

“Why does it matter if they’re perfect?” Five asked through clenched teeth. “If I can go from one place to another why does it matter if it takes a couple seconds longer or I’m a couple inches off? I can get there anyway!”

Grace reached out and grasped a rumpled napkin from the table she was standing by. It was undoubtedly from the lunch the family had eaten not an hour before. She must have missed it when she was clearing the table off. She folded it gently and set it back down as she listened to the argument.

“It means the world!” exclaimed Reginald. “Seconds in a fight make the difference between life and death! A second is the difference between a bullet hitting your heart or a bullet hitting the wall. And space matters too. An inch is the difference between you coming out in empty space and you appearing with your arm in a wall!”

Five tipped his head back, eyes gleaming with defiance. “I’m perfectly capable of doing this. And I can time travel too! If you’d only let me…”

“No,” Sir Reginald said sternly. “It is far too dangerous, Number Five. Far too risky for a boy your age.”

“You don’t seem to be too concerned with me jumping around the room, though. Didn’t you just tell me that was dangerous too?”

“There are different levels of danger, Number Five. And there are things much worse than getting stuck in a cabinet or the counter. Time travel is something far beyond what you are capable of at this moment.”

Five scowled. “So you’re saying I can’t handle it,” he spat. “I can handle it just fine! I’ll show you just how good I am!” Grace watched, her programming following the boy’s progress as he began to jump around the room at a furious pace, going faster and faster and making riskier jumps.

_ Pop! _ He was sitting on a chair.

_ Pop! _ He was laying on the counter.

Sir Reginald Hargreeves, tried to step towards him but Five was gone the next second. The man looked angry at the boy’s indignance. “Number Five, stop this at once!”

_ Pop! _ He was standing on the table, feet planted determinedly on the white tablecloth. 

_ Pop! Pop! Pop!  _ Five was turning the tap to the sink.

_ Pop! _ He was opening the fridge.

“Number Five you are going too fast!” Reginald yelled. “You cannot sustain concentration at this speed!”

_ Pop! Pop! _ He had the knife in his hands again and Grace only had a second to process that he had put it down a while ago.

_ Pop! Pop! Pop!  _ The air was a blue haze around them.

He was whizzing from place to place.

_ Pop! _

For a horrible second everything was still. Then Five started screaming and Grace’s nursing programming kicked on.

He was standing next to the fridge, staring in horror at his shaking hand. The knife he had been holding was poking through his skin. It had gone straight through the edge of his palm to the other side. Blood was pouring from the wound and falling down to the floor.

Grace bustled over and put one hand on his arm, turning him to face her. Sir Reginald Hargreeves moved in too and looked on disdainfully.

“This is exactly what happens when you do not do as you are told!” he shouted. “What would you have done if that knife had gone through your chest? I told you that you aren’t ready to take that many jumps and you did not listen!”

Five hadn’t stopped staring at his hand in a detached way as Grace began to try to help him. He made a high noise in the back of his throat.

Reginald did not stop his scolding. “And furthermore, Number Five, you most certainly aren’t ready to travel through time! You can’t even make a series of simple jumps without questioning my orders and nearly getting yourself killed.”

Tears welled up in Five’s eyes, thick and heavy and he blinked furiously, opening and closing his mouth and breathing hard when he realized that he had no words.

“Number Five, if you ever do something as foolish as-”

“That’s enough,” Grace cut in and the man’s attention landed on her. She had needed to get his attention on the situation or Five would only get worse. “He will need stitches.”

Sir Reginald seemed to snap out of his anger and took a deep breath. He brushed off the front of his jacket. “You’re right. Let’s get him to the medical room. Quickly.” Grace nodded and ushered the injured Five to the sterile room they treated like a hospital.

When they removed the knife the boy closed his lips tight and let out a muffled yell into his mouth. He had taken hold of a handful of Grace’s skirt and clutched it tightly in his fist as he tried his best to not whimper in pain.

When it was all over Grace made sandwich with peanut butter and marshmallows and a tall glass of milk and gave them to the wounded, sullen child. Five held his injured hand to his chest, but he picked up the food with the other. He muttered a quiet, food-clogged thank you to Grace and she smiled.

She was just happy that he was okay.

That they were all still okay.

  
-  


Number Six’s sessions were certainly the most interesting. Because Ben’s tentacle summoning was shockingly uncontrollable and very unpleasant for him, they rarely made much progress in their trainings.

Mostly the boy would be reluctant to use his gifts at all and when he did he could do nothing to stop the carnage that would ensue. And, of course, there as always the risk that his powers would tear him apart.

After he wrecked one of the rooms, breaking picture frames on the walls and smashing windows, they moved his training to an empty, closed off room with a single window in the door that Reginald and Grace could look through to observe the training from a safe distance.

It didn’t eliminate all the threats, and of course it meant that Ben was essentially closed in the room alone with the monster he summoned, but there were no better options available that allowed the scientist to study the boy’s training.

“Begin, Number Six,” Sir Reginald called. He held up his notebook, jotting a quick note before looking up expectantly.

The child heaved a sigh. “Do I have to?” he asked tiredly. “I don’t like it.”

Reginald narrowed his eyes. “This is not the time for objections, Six. Let’s begin.”

So it began.

The strange light of power came out of the boy’s body and the tentacles emerged from some other world. They flailed and whipped around, slamming into walls and shaking the floor on impact. It was a mess of slime and suckers that mashed and clashed and wreaked havoc on the empty air.

Grace smiled encouragingly at her son from outside the door as she clasped her hands together before her. She was supposed to be vacuuming the house right now, that was what her schedule had said, but Ben had spoken at dinner which was against the rules, and as a result the scientist had rounded them up afterwards for a special session.

It hadn’t been fair, in Grace’s opinion, to punish Ben for speaking. He had been trying to reprimand Klaus, who was rolling a joint under the table. Ben never supported his brother’s self destructive tendencies and Grace agreed. She did not like to see her children doing anything that might hurt them.

Klaus would be punished too, she knew. He was going to be brought to the mausoleum again later that night. Reginald had told Grace she wouldn’t be coming this time. She didn’t let it worry her, the boy was strong.

All of the siblings were strong.

Everything was going as it normally did. Reginald called out to Ben. He wanted the child to take control of the tentacles. He wanted him to make them stop moving. It wasn’t that easy, of course, and despite Ben’s clear straining the tentacles barely slowed.

“I- I can’t!” he cried. His arms were out to either side of him as the monstrous parts of a creature from another world burst from his torso. Out of all the children, Ben had the most reason to fear his power. “They don’t listen to me!”

“Then make them listen, Number Six! It is you who calls them here, you are in control,” Reginald shouted in reply. He could say what he wanted, though, and it would not change the truth. It was clear that Ben had no idea what he was doing.

“I can’t!” the child repeated, louder now.

Reginald’s hand clenched into a fist. The words ‘I can’t’ were among his least favorite things to hear. “Take control, you useless brat, before they take over you!”

Grace tilted her head to the side. She did not think useless was at all an accurate description of Ben. There was no time to process this, however, because at that moment there was a blinding blue light from within the room.

“ _ Stop! _ ” Ben screamed.

The light faded and Grace could see everything going on inside once more. Ben stood in the middle of the room, a stunned look on his face. The tentacles were spread out around him.

They were all perfectly still.

Ben looked around in surprise. Sir Reginald Hargreeves had a pleased expression as he scribbled into his notebook. Ben took a hesitant step forward and the tentacles moved with him. A sheen of sweat had broke out on his forehead.

Grace noticed how his eyes had begun to unfocus. The boy blinked several times, fast and disorientedly.

“That’s enough,” Grace said, reaching for the doorknob. Something was wrong. She could see it on Ben’s face.

Reginald shook his head scornfully. “You mistake progress for danger, Grace. We are finally making progress!”

Ben collapsed, eyes rolling back into his head.

The man drew back in surprise. He opened his mouth and closed it again.

“That’s enough,” Grace repeated as the tentacles began to flail once again. They slowly they retracted into the boy’s chest and back into the world they had come from. This time the scientist let her enter the room and make her way to the unconscious child.

“It must have taken too much out of him…” Reginald murmured from the doorway. “Fascinating.”

Grace knelt by Ben and took his head gently in her hands. He did not respond so she gently patted his cheeks, watching him carefully for any signs that he was waking up. For almost a minute there were none.

Then the boy began to take deeper breaths and his eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks.

“Ben,” Grace said gently. “Wake up, sweetheart.”

Ben moaned and turned his head to the side. He scrunched up his forehead. “Ugh,” he groaned. He opened his eyes and quickly shut them again to block out the bright lights from the ceiling. Grace brought one hand about a foot over his face to block his eyes. When he tried to open them again he kept them open and he looked up at the robot, disoriented.

“Mom?” he slurred. “Mom, my head hurts.”

“Don’t worry,” she said, running her hand gently through his hair. “We’ll get you fixed up in no time!” She helped her son to his feet and they left the room. Ben cast his eyes to the floor as they past Sir Reginald. His face went pink with shame and Grace squeezed his shoulder gently.

She took him to the kitchen where he sat on the counter as she fetched him an ice pack to put on the back of his head where his head had hit the ground. She tested him for a concussion- he didn’t have one- then gave him a pill for the pain.

He swallowed it with a glass of water and Grace walked with him upstairs to his bedroom.

When Sir Reginald led Klaus to the car twenty minutes later, Grace held Ben as he cried. “It’s my fault he has to go there,” he told her tearfully.

“Don’t be silly,” she replied. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

She can tell he doesn’t believe her. There’s nothing she can do about that, though. Grace can only do what she can for them and hope they know that nothing that happens to them is because of them.

  
-  


Number Seven’s power was dangerous. At least, that’s what Sir Reginald Hargreeves thought. He had built Grace because she was hurting all the nannies and Grace had taken her position with pride. She couldn’t be hurt. Well, not hurt enough to make her unfixable, anyway.

Still, there was a large amount of danger to it. This was mostly because it was seemingly limitless and Vanya had so little power over it.

As far as Grace knew, Vanya could break glass, make objects move, and compel things towards her. Her sessions were long and varied as the scientist had her do everything from break glasses to lifting and throwing pencils.

Today they were standing outside the empty room usually reserved for Ben’s practice as Reginald asked Vanya to lift a pane of glass into the air and break it. He was trying to combine different skills to see if any worked better together than alone.

“I want to go play with the others,” the girl said quietly, brushing her long hair behind her ear. “Why are my sessions always so long?”

“Because you have the most work to do, Number Seven,” replied Reginald shortly. “Now begin, the sooner you complete this exercise the sooner you can rejoin your siblings.” Vanya sighed, but she turned back the the table and stared down at the sheet of glass.

At first nothing happened. Vanya stared down at the table, still and quiet.

Then the air began to shimmer around her.

It spread throughout the room and out into the hall, bending the light and making the air go thick. The pane of glass rose up from the table.

Grace thought, in the drawn out moment before disaster, that she was going to do it perfectly. That this would be over in a minute. She started to pull the recipe for brownies from her databanks so she could make some for the children later.

Then everything went to hell.

The glass shattered, but not just the sheet that Vanya had lifted. All of the glass down the hallway broke to pieces and rained down to the floor. Vanya recoiled as her fingers began to drip with blood from where the pieces of glass had hit her hands.

Her fear turned the air cold. The ground rumbled and the walls shook.

It was almost like an earthquake. Sir Reginald drew back from the doorway, but he continued to observe with an almost obsessive ferocity in his eyes. “She is unlimited,” he murmured.

Grace shook her head. They needed to stop this before the house came down and Grace needed to treat the cuts on Vanya’s hands. “That’s enough,” she said, even as the pieces of glass all down the hall rose into the air and flew into the room to create a deadly circle around the young girl.

“That’s quite enough, Number Seven,” Reginald said through the dense air surrounding them. But Vanya did not seem capable of stopping. She was too scared, too out of control. “She’s too powerful. Grace, put an end to this.”

Grace nodded and entered the room. She had to calm the girl down, had to help her regain control. And she was the only one who could.

The robot walked calmly into the storm of broken glass, not flinching or feeling as they cut jagged rips in her synthetic skin.

When she reached Vanya, Grace crouched down to her level. Vanya had balled her hands up and was using them to cover her head as her scared breaths left her in high pitched gasps.

“Vanya,” Grace prompted her gently, taking her wrists her in her hands and prying her fists away from her face. “Look at me, please.”

The girl had her eyes squeezed shut but she opened them a crack to meet her mother’s eyes. “I just want to be with my siblings,” she whispered shakily.

“And you can be, silly,” Grace responded, giving Vanya a smile. “You just need to regain control of your breathing. It’s alright, just follow my lead. In… Out… In… Out…”

Slowly the glass slowed and Vanya’s shoulders began to relax.

“Just like that,” Grace said. “That’s very good, Vanya!” The glass came to a rest on the floor all around them and Vanya opened her eyes fully.

The air stopped shimmering. It was over.

“Your session is done for today, Seven,” Reginald said. He sounded disappointed. By the time Grace turned to look at him he had already gone.

Vanya lowered her head until her hair fell in front of her face. “I just can’t do it right.”

“Don’t be silly! You did it perfectly! You just got scared and that happens to everyone. You’ll get it next time, I know it. Now,” Grace hummed, turning the girl’s hands over to look at them. “Let’s get this looked at, okay?” Vanya nodded timidly and looked away as Grace pulled out the small shards of glass.

They went to the hospital room next, where the robot wrapped Vanya’s hands with bandages. Then they joined the rest of the children in the kitchen and Grace made them all brownies, making sure to let Vanya eat the first one.

She let her eyes travel over all of her kids and she was filled with pride. She loved them all more than they would ever know. She would give her life if it meant they could be safe.

  
-  


Overall, Grace said ‘that’s enough’ many times. But she also said ‘keep going’. She did not say it to Reginald, though. She said it to her children.

She told Five to keep going, even if she only said it in her head, when he finally asked Reginald why he was not ready to time travel. When he finally said that he could do it and did.

Grace was so proud of him for succeeding.

She said keep going when Ben was laying on the operating table, dying as she cradled his head in her arms and Pogo readied the defibrillator for another pulse. She murmuring to him quietly until he went still under her hands and his heartbeat flatlined. She stayed until he passed on to the other side because she would never leave him. But she had to leave him. He was already gone.

But Grace was so proud of him for fighting.

She repeated her words once more as they stood again before the operating table. This time it was Klaus lying there, body shuddering its way through his first overdose. “Keep going,” she told him. “Keep breathing. It will be over soon.”

Grace was so proud of him for surviving.

She told Diego the same as he stood in the door of the Umbrella Academy, ready to leave. He clutched her hand, tears streaming down his face and she wrapped him in her arms for the last time for years to come. “Keep going,” she said into his hair. “You’re going to be amazing. Stop crying, silly, I’ll always be here. Just remember the words in your mind.”

Grace was so proud of him for moving on.

She reminded Vanya to keep going as she hesitated on the steps of the stage. She had gone to her first violin recital with Reginald and Grace, who had both wanted to see her play. The robot whispered to her how well she could play and the girl got the courage to climb the stairs.

Grace was so proud of her for performing.

She said keep going to Allison over and over as she delivered her baby in the operating room of the hospital. She told her to keep pushing, that her daughter was almost there. And when it was over she handed Claire to her mother and smiled as Allison cried and laughed with happiness.

Grace was so proud of her for pushing through.

She said it for the last time to Luther as he stood in the door of the spaceship and readied himself to leave the earth behind indefinitely. He didn’t want to go, not really, but he was as ready to place his duty over himself as he had ever been. He gave her a short hug before the door closed and he was inside the vehicle that would take him millions of miles away.

Grace was so proud of his bravery.

Grace was proud of them all.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading all the way through this! This was honestly difficult to write, I don't like putting the Umbrella Academy kids through any more pain. They've been through enough. My next fic will be happier hopefully, but I hope you enjoyed this just the same!


End file.
